


talk dirty to me [saxophone music]

by theantepenultimateriddle



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: F/F, and like also i wrote this longhand on a bus so, at least i hope it is, basically i wrote this while riding a bus and it is not NEARLY my best work, forgive awkward phrasing, good gay shit good good gay shit, lovelace just talks and minkowski is hella gay for it, mostly because i usually write from lovelace's perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 05:43:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12184020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theantepenultimateriddle/pseuds/theantepenultimateriddle
Summary: "Do you want me?"





	talk dirty to me [saxophone music]

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% the best name I could think of.

Minkowski lies on the bed, totally still, as Lovelace caresses her naked body. Her hands are calloused from work, but Lovelace’s touch is light, and as she strokes Minkowski’s thighs, her hips, her breasts, she can’t quite bring herself to care that her hands aren’t soft. Lovelace is warm and gentle, and Minkowski can see a look on her face- biting her lip, her eyes wide and flickering over her as if she wants to take in every inch of Minkowski’s body- that speaks of adoration and appreciation, like she’s a piece of fine art in a gallery and Lovelace is a patron. Minkowski swallows hard.

Lovelace leans in and kisses her slowly, and then pulls back, her warmth moving away, her hands off Minkowski’s body. She sits back and looks at her, and Minkowski shivers. She props herself up on her elbows and looks at Lovelace. “Something wrong?” Her voice is slightly breathless, and she blushes.

Lovelace just looks at Minkowski for a second, breathing heavily, then shakes her head. “Nothing’s wrong,” she says. “With your permission, though, I’d like to try something.”

“Try what?” Minkowski tries not to sound too eager, but mostly fails. Then an idea occurs to her and she wrinkles her nose. “It’s not bondage, is it?” God knows she’s down for mostly everything Lovelace could suggest, but being tied up holds no interest for her, and even thinking about it makes Minkowski a little uncomfortable.

“What? No,” Lovelace says, drawing back slightly in surprise. “Why would I- Okay, no. I just…” Lovelace trails off, and when she speaks again her voice is low and quiet, the voice that Minkowski is an absolute sucker for. “You like listening to me talk, don’t you? You like hearing my voice?”

Minkowski’s entire body tingles, because she does like hearing Lovelace talk. She  _ loves _ hearing Lovelace talk, just talk and talk to her. And Lovelace, for someone who mangles even the most basic of pickup lines, someone who once told Minkowski she was like cement as a compliment to her strength and durability, is incredibly good at using her bedroom voice. “Yes,” she says, simply.

Lovelace grins, and god damn Minkowski adores that crooked smile of hers. “Alright, then.” She takes a deep breath. “Lie back down and hold still, Minkowski. I’m going to talk to you about something.” She gets up and walks over to the desk they’ve pushed against the side of the room, then pulls out the chair and sits, facing the bed. Minkowski obeys, lying back on the bed and staring at the ceiling, and Lovelace talks. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” she begins. “You’re so damn pretty lying there. I love you. I love touching you. I love tasting you, running my hands over your skin. When I do that-” Lovelace breaks off, and Minkowski arches her back slightly, moving her hand to rest on her crotch. “You’re so loud,” she says. “I don’t know if you know that. I don’t know if you realize how loud you are when you call out for me, but it’s pretty loud. The noises you make,  _ jesus.  _ They run through my entire body, and I feel like I’m on fire. I feel like God. And Minkowski, you twitch and writhe underneath me, and touch my hair, put your hands on my shoulders and pull me closer, and it’s the best goddamn feeling in the world. You, touching me, letting me touch you. You under me. How do you feel when I touch you? Does it turn you on? I hope so, Minkowski, because it sure does to me.” Minkowski moves her hands over herself, rubs her thumb over her clit, and then slips a finger inside herself, inhaling deeply as Lovelace continues to talk. “When I hear you, I want to run my hands over your entire body. I want to kiss you, I want to eat you out, I want to make you scream my name. I know you want me.” Minkowski adds a finger, feeling her own wetness, and moves them in and out, fucking herself in time to Lovelace’s words. “I want,” she says, “to take you. To push you against a wall and kneel in front of you. I’d kiss the insides of your thighs and leave you with purple bite marks. I want to spread your legs and tonguefuck you.” Lovelace’s voice is soft, low, and melodious, and as she talks Minkowski pumps her fingers in and out of herself, thrills of ecstasy and need running through her body. She can feel Lovelace’s phantom fingers on her skin, and she imagines that her fingers are Lovelace’s inside her even as Lovelace sits in front of her. She reaches down her other hand and rubs the hood of her clit, grinding her hips against her own hands. Minkowski is aware of how she’s performing for Lovelace as well, of how Lovelace has slipped a hand into her own pants and is touching herself as she watches. Her voice is more faltering now, more breathless. “God, yes, Minkowski, you’re so good. Even now. Watching you is heaven, knowing that I’m doing this to you. It drives me crazy to know that, and even crazier because I’m just as fucking desperate as you are. Do you feel that way about me?”

Minkowski opens her mouth, and at first all that comes out is a whine. She whimpers, and Lovelace lets out a long sigh, almost a groan. “Yes,” whispers Minkowski. “Yes, yes,  _ yes, _ ” and she’s getting louder because Lovelace is right, she can’t do this quietly. “I want- you, I want you.”

“Want me to do what?” asks Lovelace in a voice that is barely being held in check. 

Minkowski goes faster, opening herself up, rocking her entire body against her hands. Between incoherent sounds she tries to speak. “I want you to fuck me,” she says. “God, fuck me senseless, Captain. Fuck me raw and screaming. I want your lips on mine and on my body and I want you, just you, only ever you. Jesus Christ, bite me, kiss me, scratch me, do  _ anything.  _ Lovelace, Lovelace, god, oh-” Minkowski hits a spot inside of herself and arches up painfully, breaking off into a high-pitched cry. 

Lovelace hums under her breath, her words faster now. “I love you, Minkowski. I want to fuck you as much as you want to be fucked. I’m here to do that, I want to lick your breasts and collarbone and you, I want to taste nothing but you, I want to feel nothing but you.”

Minkowski crooks her fingers against the ridges of her inner walls, spreads her labia. She moves her other hand back up her body, over her breasts, and sucks on her fingers. Then she touches them to her nipples, drawing light circles around herself. She’s falling apart as Lovelace talks, and she gasps and winces as she feels inside herself. “You,” she says, her brain feeling like it’s been set on fire. “You, you, you, Lovelace, I-  _ fuck!” _ Minkowski tenses, shaking and seizing up, a sound escaping from her throat and ripping it raw. Her brain goes blank, and Minkowski screams. 

The sound slowly peters out as her body trembles and relaxes, going limp. She removes her fingers and sits up, watching Lovelace, who has a blank look in her dark, liquid eyes. Her mouth is moving slightly in the shapes of silent words, and the hand inside her pants is moving too, with her bucking against it. Minkowski watches her girlfriend getting off and feels heat inside her stomach again, spreading through her body, as Lovelace looks back at her in forced silence. Her panting breaths and Minkowski’s own heartbeat in her ears are the only sounds she can hear. She moves herself to the edge of the bed, closer to Lovelace, and straddles the corner, rubbing lightly against it. “Isabel,” she says, quietly. “Do you like me like this? You say you like hearing me, so I’ll assume you like hearing me talk too. I want to tell you all the things I want to do to you. I want to pleasure you. I want to touch you. I want, Captain, to lay my ear against your chest and hear you breathing hard. I  _ want, _ ” Minkowski says, her voice more forceful and more insistent, “I want to see you get fucking naked. I want to watch you strip. And I want you to watch me do the same. You’ve seen all of me. You’ve felt me, you’ve heard me. I love it. I love you. I want your body against me, skin to skin, I want to wrap my mouth around your nipples and lick them, I want to slide my fingers into the wetness of you. I want to  _ return your goddamn favor. _ ”

As she says that, Lovelace’s eyes go totally unfocused and she freezes, trembling, her hand totally still. She stops breathing for a second, and Minkowski exhales slowly, watching her. Then Lovelace relaxes, practically melts, and stares at Minkowski’s face, her eyes vague. She’s panting, and Minkowski is proud of what she’s done to Lovelace. Her Lovelace.

Eventually Lovelace’s eyes snap back to the present, and she gives Minkowski a tired smile. She swallows visibly, then speaks, her voice rough. “Wow. That was… damn. Did you like it?”

Minkowski inhales deeply, then nods fast. “Hell yes.” 

Lovelace stands and brushes herself off. “Good.” She comes over and sits next to Minkowski, then wraps her arms around her. “Let’s do it again sometime.” Her breath is warm on Minkowski’s skin, and she nods, leaning into Lovelace. She never wants to move again.


End file.
